"Well, he's in search of Tibbie."

"Of Tibbie! What does he know?"

"That woman who met him in the park told him something. She probably knew of your appointment."

"Why?"

"Because this morning he went to Harker's Hotel in Waterloo Road, and inquired for her. But you had very fortunately taken her away."

"Then if he knows of our appointment he will certainly follow me!" I said, in utter amazement.

"Most certainly he will. You recognise the grave peril of the situation?"

"I do," I said, for I saw that Sybil must at once be seriously compromised. "But who could have known our secret? Who was the woman?"

"I've never seen her before. She's an entire stranger. But that she is aware of Tibbie's movements is beyond doubt. You were evidently seen together when you met last night--or how would he know that she slept at Harker's Hotel?"

I was silent. I saw the very serious danger that now lay before us.

Yet why was this man in search of Tibbie? He had proposed to her, she had said, and had been refused.

I recalled to my companion the fact of the photograph of the dead man being found in his bag.

"Yes," Eric said. "He has recognised the victim but has some secret motive in remaining silent. Is it, I wonder, a motive of revenge?"

"Against whom?"

For a few moments he did not speak. Then he answered--

"Against Tibbie."

I pursed my lips, for I discerned his meaning. Was it possible that Ellice Winsloe knew the truth?

"Therefore, what are we to do? What do you suggest?" I asked.

"You must not risk going to see Sybil to-morrow. Where is she?"

I briefly explained all that we had done that day, and how and where she had gone into hiding.

"Then you must send her an express letter in the morning. We must not go to see her. You are certainly watched."

"But think of her," I said. "I am posing as her husband, and she will require my presence there to-morrow in order to complete the fiction."

"It's too risky--far too risky," Eric declared, shaking his head dubiously.

"The only way is for you to keep watch upon Winsloe," I suggested, "and warn me of his movements."

"But the woman--the woman who met him by appointment in the park? She may be in his employ as spy."

"Did Mason overhear anything that night when Sybil came to my room, I wonder," I said.

"Never mind how they got to know," he exclaimed. "I tell you that you mustn't go near Tibbie. It's far too dangerous at this moment."

His words caused me considerable apprehension. How could I leave Sybil there alone? Would not Mrs Williams and her husband think it very strange? No. She had craved my a.s.sistance, and I had promised it.

Therefore, at all risks I intended to fulfil my promise.

To allay Eric's fears, however, I pretended to agree with him, and made him promise to still keep watch upon Winsloe. Eric was my guest whenever in London; therefore I ordered Budd to prepare his room, and after a snack over at the club we sat smoking and talking until far into the night.

Next morning my companion was early astir. He was in fear of Winsloe ascertaining the whereabouts of Sybil, and went forth to keep watch upon him, promising to return again that same evening. Winsloe had well-furnished rooms in King Street, St James's Square, was one of a go-ahead set of men about town, and a member of several of the gayest clubs frequented by the _jeunesse doree_.

It was both risky and difficult for me to get down to Neate Street, Camberwell, in my dress as a printer; yet against Eric's advice I succeeded, travelling by a circuitous route to South Bermondsey Station and along the Rotherhithe New Road, in reaching Mr Williams' a little after eleven o'clock.

Sybil, looking fresh and neat, was eagerly awaiting me at the window, and when I entered the room she flew across to me, saying in a voice loud enough for the landlady to overhear,--

"Oh! Willie, how very late you are. Been working overtime, I suppose?"

"Yes, dear," was my response; and we grinned at each other as we closed the door.

"The time pa.s.ses here awfully slowly," she declared in a low voice. "I thought you were never coming. I shall have to get a few books to read."

"I was delayed," I said, taking off my cloth cap and flinging it upon the sofa. "I found Eric Domville awaiting me. He came up from Ryhall to-day and told me some strange news."

"Strange news!" she gasped, turning deathly pale and clutching at the back of a chair in order to steady herself. "What--what news?"

The truth was instantly plain. Her fear was that the mystery of the unknown had been discovered.

I had quite inadvertently struck terror into her heart, for upon her countenance was that same haunted look as on that night when she had left Ryhall in secret.

"What Eric has told me concerns Ellice Winsloe," I said, much surprised, and yet allowing her agitation to pa.s.s unnoticed.

"Ellice Winsloe. Is he--has he come to London?" she gasped, staring at me and starting.

"Yes, and more. He knows that you slept the night before last at Harker's. He called to see you an hour after we had left yesterday."

"He knows!" she cried in a low, terrified voice.

"Ellice knows that I was there! Then he has followed me--he--he means to carry out his threat!"

"What threat?"

"Ah, no. I--I'm mad, Wilfrid. I--I don't know what I'm saying!" she cried, pushing her hair from her brow with both her hands and pacing up and down the room. "But you will help me--won't you?" she implored, halting before me and looking me straight in the face.

"Help you--of course," I said. "But I confess I can't understand. This man only proposed marriage to you a fortnight ago."

"I know. I know. And I refused him. Ah! Wilfrid. I would rather kill myself than marry that man!"

"Then you know something concerning him that is not in his favour?"

"I know a great deal. I often wonder why Jack and he are such intimate friends."